


Beats, Bass, and Brutalism

by labellelunaclaire



Series: AUgust 2020 [13]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25919368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labellelunaclaire/pseuds/labellelunaclaire
Summary: Day 13 — Rock BandPercy Jackson, drummer for the punk rock bandAnaklusmos,finds himself enthralled by the blonde keyboardist of the pop punk girl group,Reclaiming Ariadne.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: AUgust 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860763
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Beats, Bass, and Brutalism

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been waiting to post this fic for two months! This was one I was most excited to write, and I’m glad I finally finished it and am getting it up (just a couple days late).

Percy couldn’t keep his eyes off the blonde girl on stage.

To be completely honest, he didn’t know much about  _ Reclaiming Ariadne _ . He kinda figured they were one of those hyper-manufactured, ra-ra-feminism groups with little to no actual talent to back it up. A marketing scheme to appeal to “free-thinking” teen girls.

He never felt so wrong.

He stood in the wings of the stage and just…  _ stared,  _ because what else could he do?

There were five of them in all, along with a backing band. Each girl was done up from head to toe in elaborate hair and makeup and trendy, edgy clothes and sky high heels that made even the shortest of them look like an Amazon. They all had voices like a Siren and danced like a Muse and… he was really going to have to stop with the mythology comparisons.

He was entranced. By their passion. By their beauty.

By the blonde.

His band had gone on before theirs. Compared to them, he and his bandmates looked like they’d just rolled out of their garage and stumbled onto the stage. That was sort of their whole thing.  _ Anaklusmos  _ was a throwback to old school punk rock. They weren’t meant to be polished. Probably weren’t meant to get signed by a label, either. But no one could accuse them of not putting in the effort. He vividly remembered not that long ago when everyone in the band agreed to save all of their money and buy a run down RV and tour from small venue to small venue, selling copies of their demo album after gigs and desperately trying to build their fanbase.

The massive tour bus parked out in the arena parking lot was a testament to how far they’d come.

Percy felt starstruck by the blonde as he watched her and her group dance complicated choreography without the slightest bit of breathiness in their singing. Occasionally, one of them would pick up an instrument and play it absolutely flawlessly. The blonde turned out to be an incredibly skilled keyboard player.

She was perfect.

As their set list came to a close, the five girls joined each other in the center of the stage, arm in arm. The blonde was just to the left of a girl with brown hair that was styled into an elaborate braided mohawk with one side shaved close to her scalp.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight to DOA Records’ anual showcase concert!” the mohawked girl shouted into the microphone as the crowd cheered. “I’m Pip.”

Each of the girls chimed in.

“I’m Zel.” The youngest, with her tight coily hair molded into a sculptural design.

“I’m Lena.” Tall, gorgeous, with a high raven ponytail.

“I’m Rey.” Intense brown eyes with purple streaks through her dark brown waves.

“And I’m AB.” The blonde, her golden curls looking like something out of a fairytale.

“We’re  _ Reclaiming Ariadne _ and we hope you enjoy the rest of the show!” the first — Pip — yelled, and the lights went down, allowing the group and their backing band to escape the stage so the stagehands could get things set for the next act.

And they were exiting the same side of the stage where he was currently standing, staring at them.

Oh, what the hell. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, right?

The girls were greeted by their crew, who handed them water bottles and bags. They chatted with each other and the crew in easy, friendly tones.

He went up to the blonde.

“Hey,” Percy said, trying to sound cool and casual as he leaned against a speaker — which just happened to be on unlocked wheels and rolled, causing him to stumble in a decidedly un-cool way. “You guys were pretty great out there.”

The blonde eyed him up and down, gray eyes framed with long black lashes and winged liner so sharp they could cut someone’s throat. She gave him a half smirk, red lips twitching with amusement.

“You, too,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “I’m Annabeth.”

He shook her hand, a little shocked by how firm her grip was. “I’m Percy,” he very nearly stammered. “I’d never really listened to your music before. I liked it.”

Annabeth’s eyebrow raised, her owlish eyes staring at him like he was a mouse she was about to swoop in and eat. “High praise, I’m sure.”

She reached into her purse — an old, ratty thing that didn’t go with her blood red top, black high waisted shorts, and designer heels — and took out a pack of makeup wipes and began to rub at her eyes. The eyeliner and mascara melted away easily, and she peeled back an intense false eyelash.

“Uh, yeah,” Percy continued, still nervous, though Annabeth looked decidedly less intimidating with every wipe of the cloth. “Anyways, I just wanted to see if you wanted to do something tonight. You know, since we’re on the same label and all.”

He rubbed the back on his neck. He sounded like a complete idiot.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Annabeth said as she removed her lipstick, leaving behind a red stain. She looked like any girl off the street without all the stage makeup. “I have a paper due at midnight that I need to finish proofreading.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Maybe I can help you out with it.”

_ Stupid stupid stupid — _

She eyed him top to bottom. “You want to help me proofread my paper on Brutalism?” she asked skeptically.

“Yeah, of course,” he said enthusiastically. “I love, um, Brutalism.”

She stared at him for another long moment, those gray eyes piercing through to his very soul.

“Alright,” she said at last. “You can come with me back to our bus.”

* * *

Percy wasn’t very much help with proofreading Annabeth’s essay on Brutalism. (Which turned out to be a style of mid-century architecture. Who knew?)

The two of them sat in the back room of  _ Reclaiming Ariadne’s _ tour bus, which was pretty much identical to the one that he’d been living in with his band for the past three months. It was mostly a difference of how many fuzzy, pastel throw pillows and gauzy window treatments there were.

The back room of their bus was part office, part recording room.

“We like to be able to come back here and record demos whenever creativity strikes,” Annabeth explained as she collapsed into a comfortable looking computer chair. She grabbed a gray hoodie from the desk and pulled it on, and then tied her hair back in a simple ponytail. Like this, she looked so normal, like a girl he might see in the hallway at his old high school. “But since I’m in college and Hazel is finishing high school online, we also needed a place where we can go to do our work if needed. I can’t focus unless I’m sitting upright.” 

She pulled up a document on the screen and then kicked away from the desk, giving Percy room to pull up a chair and read her paper.

Percy took one glance at the screen and let out a surprised laugh.

“Do you always write your essays in comic sans?” he asked her.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m dyslexic,” she explained. “Comics sans is easier for me to read. I change it before I submit it to my professors.”

“Does it really?” he asked. “I’m dyslexic, too, but I’ve never heard that. Have you ever forgotten to change it back before turning it in?”

She sighed. “Once,” she admitted reluctantly. “Luckily, the professor thought it was funny and didn’t take away any points.”

Percy hummed and started reading through the paper, and found that the comic sans  _ did _ actually help his ability to read it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help that he still wasn’t very good at proofreading.

“Um,” he said. “So, I guess I should just be honest. I’m not actually that great at like… spelling and grammar. So… I don’t know how much help I’ll be with this. I just… really wanted to hang out with you and get to know you.”

Annabeth sighed. “I sort of figured,” she admitted. “Well, scoot over. I’ll read through this real quick and get it submitted.”

Percy nodded, feeling like an absolute idiot as he pushed his chair away from the desk while Annabeth moved back into place. He looked around the room, his eyes settling on an acoustic guitar resting on a stand in the corner.

“Do you like music while you do your work?” he asked. “I could play something for you.”

“Drums aren’t exactly conducive to concentration,” Annabeth pointed out.

Percy’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what his role in the band was.

“I also play guitar,” he told her.

“Have at it,” she said with a wave of her hand, already reading through her paper.

Percy picked up the guitar gently and checked the tuning before he started playing.

He didn’t play as often as he wanted to anymore. Now that they were touring and constantly writing and recording new songs, he just didn’t have time to play for pleasure. But his first musical love was the acoustic guitar, and he wanted to impress Annabeth.

He quietly and skillfully played some of his favorites. Mostly old folk songs, some jazz and bluegrass, a few country tunes. If his fans knew that this was the kind of music that he privately enjoyed, they’d probably tar and feather him. But he didn’t care. This was the music he was raised on, the music his mother loved to sing when he was a boy. It was the music she taught him how to play when he was learning guitar from her.

“You’re really good at that,” Annabeth said after about ten minutes of just quiet guitar and the occasional tapping of the keyboard.

“Thanks,” he responded, not letting his fingers falter for even a millisecond.

She turned her chair around.

“How come you don’t ever play guitar in the band?” she asked, her stormy eyes boring into his very soul.

Percy shrugged. “I’m the best drummer, and we already have Nico, Leo, and Jason who can play strings. I’m happy in the back with my drum set. Shouldn’t you be finishing your paper on Brutalism?”

“I just need to check my citations,” she said. “Which did you learn first?”

“Guitar,” Percy told her. “My mom taught me when I was six. She’s an even better player than I am. She used to want to be a musician, but then she got pregnant with me and my dad split and she had to give it up to be a mom. I’m basically doing this whole music thing for her.”

Annabeth smiled. “That’s really sweet, Percy,” she said. “You two must be really close.”

Percy looked down at the strings as he played a particularly difficult riff and smiled. “We are. She’s the best mom in the entire world. She did everything for me. I hope that our band can be successful enough that she can quit her job and try to follow her own dream.”

“It’s cool that your mom is supportive,” she said wistfully. “I wish my dad was.”

“Why isn’t he?”

Annabeth sighed. “He wanted me to go to Harvard like he did,” she explained. “And instead I’m living in a tour bus and doing online classes.” She made a frustrated sound. “I mean, he’s the one who made me take piano lessons starting at age five. He shouldn’t have been surprised that I didn’t want to play Bach and Beethoveen forever.”

“That sucks. He doesn’t care at all that you’re in a seriously popular band?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We don’t talk about it much. Most of the time, my stepmom is trying to mediate our conversations to keep us ‘civil’. It’s not like I dropped out of school or anything. I’m still taking a full courseload of classes each semester,  _ with  _ a 4.0 GPA,  _ on top _ of an international tour.”

Percy thought for a moment, trying to find a topic that seemed a little less volitile than her relationship with her father. “So why arcitecture?” he asked, tilting his head towards the computer. “Why not something in music?”

Annabeth shrugged. “Time makes one hit wonders out of the best of us,” she said. “I want to create something that can last the ages.”

“That’s really awesome.”

She smiled at him. “I’ll have to show you some of my designs sometime.”

“Hey, I don’t have anywhere to be tonight,” he told her with a smile.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she was still smiling. “I’m going to finish this paper and get it submitted,” she said, turning back around. “I wish I had you to play guitar while I work all of the time,” she added.

“Hey, that’s what FaceTime is for, right?” he said with a big grin. “And who knows? Maybe we can convince the record label to let our bands do a collaboration or something?”

She looked over she shoulder at him, her gray eyes sparkling. “Yeah, who knows?”

**Author's Note:**

> Alliterative titles are my favorite. :)


End file.
